


Stan the Man with Magic Hands

by andreaxjulia



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Idek what people consider graphic so we’ve got that warning there, Kind of has a haunting of hill house vibe, M/M, Reddie, STANBROUGH, Stanley Uris Has The Shining, Stenbrough, The House on 28 Neibolt Street (IT), the Shining - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:42:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21583984
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andreaxjulia/pseuds/andreaxjulia
Summary: Stanley Uris has the shining and it leads him to Derry where strange things are happening inside the house on Neibolt Street
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 19
Kudos: 69
Collections: I’m love





	1. The static sounds of a radio tower

Stanley's brain was like a giant radio tower; constantly picking up small waves and signals that no one else ever could. At least that's how he made sense of it.

Ever since he could remember, he had this.... ability. An ability to know what others were thinking and feeling. He always knew things that other people would never know. Like where a stranger had misplaced an item, the exact way a movie would end or what someone would say before they even said it. It was, at its core, a sixth sense on crack.

His parents, proudly Jewish in the most traditional way, were always concerned and fearful of their gifted son. At first it was little things; a shaking room when he threw fits, knowing where his mother left her purse without having to look around, the constant whispers to the air. They kept quiet, hoping it would pass.

But then Mallory Uris, the oldest of the two Uris children, died. Mallory was 12, Stan 6. The all too accurate drawings from the young boy leading up to her death gave grounds to the parents fear and concern for their youngest child but it was the months following that worried them the most. He claimed to see Mallory. He would say the strangest and most concerning things. Mr. and Mrs. Uris were scared.

Stanley was sent away six months after Mallorys death for a total “detoxic of the soul”, as the church called it. By the time he came back at age thirteen, he had realized it was better to hide his powers and pretend to be normal.

But when he moved to Derry after college, he could tell there was something.... peculiar about the town. He didn't know why he was heading to Derry, Maine of all places. He was looking for accounting jobs in Georgia when he found the ad for some aspiring architects personal accountant in Derry. There was something deep inside of Stanley that told him he had to go to Derry. So within that week he accepted the job, found a roommate, packed his things out of his parents house and was on his way to Maine.

Before Derry, Stanley could ignore the frequent buzzing of his personal radio tower. He could block out the pestering spirits and turn them away, he could ignore the insistent pull in his chest and the images that flashed through his mind; but Derry... Derry seemed to go by its own set of rules.

The closer and closer he got to the town, the louder the static grew. Stan could never explain what the static was or what it meant. He assumed it was his 'radio tower' trying to find one of the many frequencies around him, but he never tried to truly tune into it.

As soon as his car passed the sign that read ‘Welcome to Derry', the static became unavoidable. It happened so abruptly, so suddenly — the sound consuming him all at once. Vertigo overtook him, the byway becoming one blurred image. He went to pull over, but in his dizzy state he jerked the wheel a little too hard, crashing it into a light pole.

"Shit," he muttered, covering his ears and shutting his eyes. He sat for a while, focusing on shoving the static in that hidden sector of his mind; the sector filled with spirits and half whispers he never allowed to stick.

Once the static was manageable again, he opened his eyes to assess the damage of his car. The airbags hadn't been released and there didn’t seem to have smoke emitting from the hood. He looked in the back seat at Luna, the barn sparrow he saved two years ago and decided to stay with him. She chirped and fluffed her feathers as if you say 'I'm fine.' At least one of them was.

Pushing his body weight against the door, he was able to open it. Sadly, the engine was emitting smoke. Stanley didn't know too much about cars, but he felt that was a bad sign.

"Shit!" He shouted as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

Before he could even unlock it, he felt a pull inside of him, leading him back over to the sign. Whispers inside his head that he couldn't quite despiser but had him mesmerized all the same.

Derry.

What the hell was up with Derry?

Stanley wasn't aware of his hand reaching to the sign; reaching for the word 'Derry.'

_Derry...._

_Derry...._

_Deadly...._

_Deadly.... Derry..._

"Hey!"

Stanley jumped, his hand leaving the sign before it even came into contact with it; the strange feeling from before settling in the pit of his stomach and nesting itself to the back of his mind. His eyes shot to the source of the sound.

The first thought he had as he saw the police car pulling beside him was, " _damn... I wish all cops looked like that._ "

His second was, " _shit I'm getting arrested."_

And his third thought was, " _if all cops did look like that, I would speed a lot more._ "

"Is that your car?" The cop asked, nodding to his smoking sedan.

"I... uh... yes," he managed to blurt out. "I seemed to have ... bumped it."

"I see that," he said with a smile and an amused chuckle. "Are you just passing through?"

"Uh... no." Stanley made an effort to press down his sweater, praying there were no wrinkles after sitting for several hours. "No. I'm actually moving in."

"Moving?! To Derry?!" The cop asked before chuckling again. "Well why the hell would you do that?"

That brought a small smile to Stanley's face, though he wasn't sure why. Maybe it was just the cops own laugh that made him smile.

"I guess I just felt ... drawn here," Stan said, smirking to himself.

The cop shrugged. "To each their own I suppose. Look, I can get you a tow truck but the mechanic in town is out for the month."

He must have seen the forlorn expression on Stanley's face, because he quickly added. "But the town physician is also a pretty good mechanic and I actually happen to be friends with him so I'm sure we can get it fixed in no time."

"Oh," Stanley said, brows drawn in confusion. Why was this stranger helping him? "Thanks..."

The cop nodded. "I can give you a lift into town. Ss-so you don't have to wait. Terry drives a bit like an old man who left his reading glasses at home."

"Uh ... yeah I-I'd appreciate that," Stanley said. "I just Uhm, I have a few things."

He pointed to his car and before he turned his back away from the cop, he was out of his own car.

"Do you need any help?"

"... do I what? Oh.. no," he flustered, opening the door to the back seat. He first grabbed Luna's cage as she chirped in excitement. It had been a long journey for both of them. "I just have—"

Stanley turned, startled by the cop, who stood closer to him than he had expected. He had never liked people being too close to him, preferring to stay in his own bubble and keep others out. The closer people were to him, the more his powers seemed to awaken. He now knew the cops name was Bill, that he had forgotten where the spare key to his apartment was and he left his own key inside the apartment.

(And that his roommate, Eddie, had moved it from underneath the ugly looking dog-gnome that Georgie had gotten Bill, to the top of the doorframe.)

Stanley stumbled away from Bill with Luna in one hand and his luggage in the other. "I-I only have these things."

"You're moving to a completely different state and you only brought... a bird and one luggage?" Bill asked, a smirk showing his amusement.

_The key._

_Tell him about the key._

"I pack light," Stan said, pushing the urge to that very crowded sector of his mind.

* * *

"I never got your name," Bill said, glancing at Stan in the passenger seat. "I'm Bill, by the way."

"Stanley," he said after a minute pause. "Stanley Uris."

"Where are you from Stanley?"

"Atlanta, Georgia."

"And you decided to move to Derry? That's one hell of an intuition."

Stanley smiled slightly, shrugging his shoulders in response.

"Do you have a job in town?" Bill asked after a moments pause.

When Stan shifted in his seat, Bill quickly went on. "Oh s-s-sorry. Small t-town and all... I'll sh-sh-shut up now. Where am I taking you?"

"It's okay," Stanley said. "I've got a job as a private accountant for an architect in town. As for where you're taking me..."

Stanley pulled out his phone, opening the messages from his new roommate, Richie Tozier. "My roommate told me to meet him at.... a.... Richie's Bitchin' Bar and Diner?"

Bill chuckled. "It's actually Tozier's Bar and Diner. He's trying to rebrand it but... Derry isn't a town for rebranding. I'll take you there on my way back to the police station."

The rest of the ride was pretty silent, the only noise coming from the occasional call on Bills radio and his brief tour description as they drove through town. Stanley's mind, however was still focused on the damn spare key. He knew it wouldn't stop bothering him until he said something, but if he said something Bill would think he was crazy.

"Here we are," Bill said, parking his car in front of the building labeled 'Tozier's Bar and Diner.' "Let me help you with your stuff."

Before Stanley could object, Bill was out of the car, opening the back seat to grab Stan's suitcase. Stan sighed, following Bill and grabbing Luna's cage.

_Spare key. Spare key. Spare key. Spare key._

"Your spare key." The two had reached the door when the worst spilled out of Stanley. He said it rushed and quick. "It's not under the dog-gnome. It's on top of the doorframe."

Bill had stopped walking. Stanley cursed under his breath.

"... what?"

"Uh.... never mind," he said, quickly shoveling into the empty bar.

A man with dark curly hair emerged from behind a door when the bell chimed above them as Stan opened the door. He smiled largely as his eyes landed on Bill.

"If it isn't Big Dick Bill," the man said, smiling wildly.

"Richie,” Bill said, voice a mixture of stern and embarrassed.

"Sorry, sorry," Richie said, hands up in surrender. "Sheriff Big Dick Bill."

"Beep beep Richie." The words had left Stanley's mouth before he even had time to process them through his brain. He wasn’t sure why he said, didn’t even thing anything of it until he noticed Bill and Richie’s reactions.

"Bill, are you telling your booty calls our inside jokes?" Richie asked.

Stanley sighed to himself, cursing under his breath. Fuck. What was wrong with his fucking mind?

"He's not my booty call, Richie," Bill said, rolling his eyes. Leaning closer to Stanley, he said, "I don't have booty calls," as if to assure Stanley knew he didn't have booty calls.

In fact, that was exactly what Bill was thinking. Stanley stumbled a few steps away from Bill; the mans thoughts intruding his own. It didn't help that Bills thoughts all involved him. They brought a blush to Stanley's cheeks.

"Well who is this then?" Richie asked, bringing Stan's attention back to the bartender.

"Stanley," he said. "Stanley Uris."

"Ah so you're Stan the Man huh." Richie jumped over the bar counter, quickly making his way over to Stanley. Before Stanley could stop him, Richie's hand was shaking Stanley's. "Richie Tozier."

' _Man if I didn't have a boyfriend I'd totally tap that.'_

Unlike Bill's thoughts regarding himself, Richie's made him chuckle. He probably looked psychotic, so he turned it into a cough before quickly letting go of Richie's hand.

"Nice to finally meet you," Stanley said, suppressing his amused grin.

"He got into a little accident," Bill began to explain. But Stanley didn't catch the rest of the conversation. Bill and Richie's words began to fade in the background as harsh whispers filled his ears.

At first it was painful and unintelligible. But soon, the whispers became manageable and less... crowded. They seemed to be coming from a picture.... or leading him to the picture. subconsciously he walked to it, the rest of the restaurant fading completely away. The picture was of some house. Dark and massive and foreboding; a family stood in front of it, two boys, a little girl and a mom and a dad.

Then he heard it. A voice rising above the other whispers. The all too familiar voice chilled Stan to the bone. She said his name at no higher than a whisper, but he heard it louder than all the others. His head jerked in the direction of the voice and there she was, standing and smiling. Her smile grew as Stanley looked at her. His heart pounded against his chest, ears and wrists. He swallowed hard.

"M-Mallie..." he muttered, taking a single step forward.

A hand on his shoulder threw him back into reality, the soft sounds of 80s rock music filling the whispers. He looked to the source of the hand, afraid for a brief second that is was some childhood nightmare back to haunt him. But it was Bill wearing a concerned expression.

"You okay Stanley?" he asked. The tone of his voice relaxed Stanley. His heart slowed down, the odd sensation from before evaporated under Bill's touch. It was odd. Usually when Stanley was touched his anxieties elevated, but not right now. Not with Bill. "You zoned out there."

"Said something about a... Mallie?" Richie said. "Started to get worried my new roommate is insane."

"Richie,” Bill scorned.

"He was muttering to the wall," Richie said with a shrug.

"I'm fine." Stanley shrugged Bill's hand off his shoulder, his thoughts once again overflowing Stanley. "Sorry..."

"You're fine," Bill said softly. "Look I have to get back to the station. Eddie will be over around eight and your car should be dropped off here by then as well so Eddie said he'll take a look at it."

"Thanks," Stanley said, smiling softly at Bill. "I really uh... appreciate it."

Bill smiled back. "Anytime. M-m-maybe... maybe I'll see you later?"

"You said it's a small town so," Stanley said. "I'm sure you will."

Richie snorted, though Stanley wasn't sure why, as Bill's face turned red. "O-of course... yeah... s-see you around."

With that, Bill was gone and Stanley felt like he could actually breath. Richie let out a hearty laugh once Bill was gone.

"What?" Stanley asked.

"Nothing... it's just.... either you're oblivious as fuck," Richie said. "Or you're really not into my buddy Bill."

"What do you mean?" Stanley asked, causing Richie to laugh again.

"Never mind that. I have my answer." Richie held a key out for Stanley. "Here's the key to the apartment. It's just upstairs. I don't know how you feel about noise but we do live above a bar and Friday and Saturday nights this bar gets quite rowdy but that's about it. Every other night it's quiet, or at least manageable."

"Thanks." Stanley took the key from Richie, a brief thought about the rowdy milfs of Derry passing his mind as their hands grazed in the exchange.

"Make yourself comfortable," Richie said. "I have to finish my shift but you're room is the one on the left of the hallway. Welcome to Derry, Stan the Man."


	2. Interested in murdering you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HII omg I just wanna day thank you so much for all the comments!!!! I know I got a lot of you hooked within the first chapter (!!!!) and then just went MIA and I’m sorry about that but finals had me by the balls BUT it’s winter break so I’m here and I’ve got chapter 2 up and chapter three is in progress. (Y’all won’t be happy with chp 3 I’m warning you now I’m sorry) 
> 
> But!! Without further ado here y’all are, chp 2

It was well after eight by the time Stanley finished unpacking and showering. He left Luna's cage opened before leaving the apartment. He usually didn't keep Luna in a cage at all but she had refused to let him leave without her so he bought a cage for the drive. She seemed to prefer it so who was he to refuse a bird.

The bar was significantly more crowded now. Full of not only customers, but by a full staff as well.

"There's Stan the man!" Richie's voice called over the cacophony in the bar. He was easy to find, standing on the other side of the bar stools, taller than the rest of the crowd and a mess of curls on his head. Across from him sat a man with softer, dark hair and scrubs with trains on them.

 _Eddie_.

"Richie, what have I said about being behind the bar when you're off the clock?" Asked an older man who shooed the younger out from behind the bar.

"Sorry dad," Richie muttered with an eye roll.

"Eddie, I thought you dating him would keep him in check," the older man said.

"I've tried Went," Eddie said. "I've tried for years."

Richie wrapped his arms around Eddie from behind, resting his head on the other mans shoulder. "I'm untamable dad. You should know this by now."

Went rolled his eyes, throwing an olive at his son as Stanley approached. Richie caught it with his mouth, moving over to throw an arm around Stanley.

"This is my new roommate, Stanley," Richie said. ' _He is definitely crazy but it’ll work.'_

Stanley sighed. So much for normal.

"Stanley this is Eddie and my pops," Richie said, moving to sit on the other side of Eddie.

"Wentworth Tozier," the older man said, smiling down at Stanley. He took note of how the man didn't stretch his hand out to shake his hand, and yet, his voice rang clear through Stanley's mind all the same.

' _You can hear me_ ,' Went thought, his mouth not moving past a smile. ' _Can't you?'_

Stanley sat up straighter, expression hardened. No one had ever talked directly to him before. Was Wentworth talking to him? Could he be so sure of something so... crazy?

_'You can. I can see your shine. That means they can see you too.'_

"Who?" Stanley said, accidentally out loud. He looked to the right, thankful that Richie and Eddie were in their own world and that the noise of the bar carried his voice away.

But Went wasn't able to answer. Another employee called him away.

"I'll be right back boys," he said, glancing at Stanley before following his employee.

Stanley sighed, slouching in his seat.

"So you're the guy who crashed his car," Eddie said, startling Stanley.

"Oh... yeah," Stan said, watching as Richie went back to the other side of the bar.

"Richie, what are you doing?" Eddie asked, looking clearly exasperated at his boyfriends refusal to listen to authority.

"Getting our new friend a drink," Richie said, sliding a shot glass Stanley's way. "He looks shaken up."

Stanley shook his head. "I'm fine."

Richie shrugged, throwing the shot back himself as Eddie sent a disappointed glance his boyfriends way.

"You're the one who's going to take a look at my car, right?" Stanley asked, trying to forget about what Went had said.

_That means they can see you too._

"Yeah," Eddie said. "I tried to check it out when I got here but it's too dark out there. I'm thinking it's just a coolant problem. Doesn't seem like you hit anything too hard since the airbags didn't deploy but even small pot holes have caused coolant problems."

Richie sighed dreamily, leaning his elbow on the bar counter. "It's very sexy of you to talk cars, Eds."

Eddie rolled his eyes, pushing Richie's head back. "Beep beep Richie." To Stan he said, "I have the day off tomorrow while Cleo is in so I'll take a look at it then."

"Doctor Cleo will be in huh," Richie said. "I think I'm coming down with something actual — ow! I'm kidding!"

"I'll dump your ass," Eddie said, taking a sip of his beer. "Don't test me."

Richie pouted, rubbing his arm before his eyes landed on something behind the two.

"My man Benji!" Richie shouted as another presence approached. Stanley didn't look to see who it was. He reached out for the opened beer bottle that Went had just set in front of him as he walked past, scolding Richie about being behind the bar again. His eyes trailed Wentworth, curious as to how someone could be like him.

Sure, there were other kids in the 'boarding-school' he went to. But they weren't like Stanley. He knew that, he could tell. He wasn't sure how, but he knew. Wentworth, however, _was_ like him. He could almost sense it.

"I thought you weren't coming tonight," Richie said, handing the taller man behind Stanley a glass as he exited from behind the bar once again.

"I wasn't," the man said. "But things with the house on Neibolt street keep getting fucked up and it's so aggravating! I'm just trying to give the children of Derry a safe place to hang out after school but no! Nothing likes to work out!"

Ben plopped himself in the seat between Eddie and Stanley. Eddie put a hand on the other man's shoulder. "Sorry about that pal."

"What did you expect. That house is haunted dude," Richie said.

That statement peaked Stanley's interest. Was it really haunted? Or was Richie being dramatic. Stan hand a sense this house had everything to do with his current predicament. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. "Don't listen to him. He's a dumbass. It'll all work out Ben."

"I'm not a dumbass," Richie mumbled into his beer. "You're a dumbass..."

"Ghosts aren't real Richie," Eddie said with an amused scoff. "I'm in love with an idiot...."

"But it's not just all that," Ben continued. Stanley took a small sip of his beer. "I still have to meet with that freaking personal accountant tomorrow morning. The stuffy one from freaking Brown who's probably going to show up in some dumb penguin suit all high nosed and judgy and ruin all my dreams with dumb money talk!” 

Stanley choked on a sip of his beer, snorting at Ben's comment. It shouldn't be funny, not when he was the penguin-suit-high-nosed-judgy-accountant from Brown. But then again Stanley always did find the oddest things humorous.

Ben glanced Stanley's way, an eyebrow raised in slight recognition. But Stanley's face was down as he tried not to laugh.

"Damn Ben," Richie said. "It's not like you to make assumptions about people."

"Yeah that's Richie," Eddie said. "You must have had a shit day."

"Yeah..." Ben muttered. "Sorry, do I know you? You look familiar."

Stanley cleared his throat, glancing past his curls. He smiled. "Stanley Uris. Also known as, stuffy accountant from Brown."

Ben, Richie and Eddies eyes went wide, Ben's held more embarrassment while Richie let out a loud laugh. Eddie smacked his boyfriend lightly on the arm.

"Ow! What? Look he's smiling," Richie said. "Of course he's from Brown. Look at that sweater."

Stanley looked down at his sweater. It's not like it said "Brown" on it or anything... he thought it was nice....

"I'm so sorry," Ben began. "It's just — god I'm sorry, that is not how I pictured our first meeting..."

Stanley waved his hand, taking another sip of his beer. "I found it quite humorous."

"A man with a self-deprecating sense of humor," Richie said, moving around and clasping a hand on his shoulder. "My kind of guy."

Stanley shrugged the man's hand off of his shoulder before the thoughts intruded his mind. Still, a voice rang clear through his mind. Just his name. It was Wentworth. He looked around the bar, his eyes landing on the older man who disappeared out the back once Stan caught his sight.

"Excuse me," Stanley said, setting his drink down and making his way through the crowd.

He wasn't expecting the drop in temperature as soon as he opened the door. The night air in Maine was cool and cold even. Nothing like the humid summer nights in Georgia.

"What did you mean before?" Stanley asked as soon as he spotted Wentworth. "Who can see me?"

"I don't know," Wentworth said, glancing around conspicuously. "I always just called them The Things."

Stanley raised his eyebrow. "I know, I was a kid."

"Well... what are they?"

Wentworth sighed, running a hand through his grey, thinning hair.

"When I was five, my family and I moved into Derry," he began. "Moved into the damn house on Neibolt street."

Went shook his head. "There is something in that house. Something evil. It took my sister — killed her. Tormented me and almost got me and my brother too. Luckily my uncle also had the Shining and got me out of the house before it killed me ..."

His eyes glazed over as he glanced away. Stanley could almost see Went's memories as if they were his own. A chill ran down his spine.

"The shining?" Stanley asked.

Wentworth glanced back at Stanley, the trauma leaving as quickly as it had come. "It's the power we have. Our gift. It's called the Shining. You never knew you had it?"

Stanley shrugged. "The rabbi and priest only called it possession. Never saw it much as a gift but a curse."

"Well that's not right at all," he said. "These things... they feed on people like you and I. On our shine. You have to learn how to control your gift and hide it from them. Especially if you're going to be working closely with Ben Hanscom inside that house."

"How do I do that?"

The back door creaked open, revealing an employee. "Went, we have a kitchen problem."

"Be right there," Went said to the employee. To Stan he said. "Meditate tonight. And after work tomorrow you meet me right here. We'll begin your training."

He didn't allow Stanley the opportunity to respond, disappearing behind the door and back inside the bar.

Stanley let out a hard sigh, running his hands through his curls. He should have stayed in Georgia. There were no shine eating monsters and creepy horror houses in Georgia. He didn’t have to train alongside Obi-Wan in Georgia. 

"Hey are you lost," rang Bill Denbrough's voice.

Stanley turned around, smiling slightly as his eyes landed on Bill. He wasn't in the uniform anymore (which was a shame, truly) but Stanley still found it difficult to look away.

"Just... getting some air," Stan said, stuffing his hands in his pockets, the chill hitting his exposed skin. He might have been in a sweater but it was thin and nowhere near protective against the evening chill.

Bill smiled immediately, stepping closer to Stanley. "Richie is a bit much huh?"

Stanley chuckled. "You can say that."

"Good luck living with him."

Stanley shrugged. "I've lived with worse.”

"Your siblings that bad?"

Stan froze, thinking of Mallory. He finally shook his head. "I uh... I was in boarding school... plus my roommates at Brown were.... well they went to Brown so."

"Damn that is rough," Bill said with a chuckle. “So... how’d you know?” 

Stanley chewed on the inside of his cheek. “Know what?” 

“About my spare key. And the dog-gnome,” Bill asked. 

The curly haired man shrugged. “Good guess I suppose.” 

Bill chuckled. “That’s one hell of a guess.” 

He stepped closer to Stan, who's heart suddenly spiked. He took half a step back before Bill's thoughts could finish racing through Stan's mind.

Bill's smile fell. "I Uh... I'm kind of confused about something Stanley."

When Stan didn't respond, Bill continued. "I kind of... well I thought...." he scratched the back of his neck, the blush invading his cheeks evident even in the warm glow of the street lights. "Never mind.... I'll uh — I'll leave you to your air."

Something in Stanley twisted as he watched Bill head for the back door. He wasn't very good at being vulnerable with people. Even worse at allowing himself to get close to anyone. So he was shocked at himself as he willingly stepped forward and grabbed onto Bill's hand.

_'—so stupid Bill. Of course he wasn't interested in —'_

"You're not stupid Bill," Stan said softly. He hesitated to add the next sentence but it left his lips before he could convince himself just how stupid it was. "I am interested."

Bill turned his head, his big blue eyes shining in the night light. "In me?"

Stanley suppressed a smile. In the flattest voice he said, "yeah. But in murdering you, not like, going out or anything like that."

That brought a laugh out of Bill and a smile to Stanley, relieved that Bill appreciated his strange humor. Stan let go of Bill's hand as he turned completely to face him.

"I should warn you, I am a cop so murdering me will be very difficult," Bill said. "But I get off work at 6."

"You're making my job as a hitman very easy, Bill," Stan said.

"Maybe it's a set up," Bill said with a smirk. "Guess you'll find out at six."


	3. Stench of death

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to say once more thank you so so much for the comments!!!!! It really encourages me to continue to write and it just brightens my day :)) also I’m sorry about this and there is a minor character death just an fyi. Also also I am not a money person — barely passed Econ or finances so excuse my bs attempts at explaining money and the cost of things I am simply clueless

Stanley had never meditated before. He didn't even know where to start so he watched a guided meditation video on YouTube, sitting on a pillow cushion on the floor of his room. His legs were crossed under him and his eyes were closed as he listened to the calming voice coming from his phone.

He had sat like that for fifteen minutes. Stanley didn't know what was suppose to happen.

"Are you meditating?"

Stanley's eyes shot open. He turned around to see Richie standing in his doorway. "I thought it was Stanford alumni that were hippies."

Stan rolled his eyes, standing to his feet and dusting off his jeans. "I was _trying_ to meditate. Don't think I was doing it right."

Luna let out a loud chirp, flapping her wings a few times as if to say 'you don't do anything right'. Stanley glared at the bird, biting his tongue.

Don't talk to birds Stanley. It makes you look crazy.

"Well I'm just going to take a shower," Richie said. "Enjoy your... meditation."

"Lots of people meditate!" Stanley yelled down the hall. "It's good for the soul!"

Richie gave a thumbs up before disappearing behind the bathroom door. Stanley sighed. One day he'd meet someone who didn't think he was crazy. He smiled to himself. Maybe that day was today.

He looked back at Luna, who was judging him with her black eyes.

"I saved you Luna," he whispered, pointing a finger at the bird. "You're alive because of me."

She gave a softer chirp, lowering her beak as she settled on her perch. "That's what I thought."

* * *

_Everything was dark. There was a musty scent invading Stanley's nostrils and a chill that struck him to his bones. He wrapped his arms around himself, watching as his breath came out as smoke in front of him._

_He looked around to take in his surroundings. It took him a minute for his eyes to adjust to the complete darkness, but once they had, he realized he was in some kind of building._

_It was still dark — as if the walls were painted black. In fact, upon closer inspection he realized they were painted black. There were spiderwebs — or cobwebs — in every corner. There was broken down furniture, molded and chipped._

_The specific scent of rot was suddenly all consuming. He felt an urge to follow the scent, leading him down creaky hallways. As the scent grew more pungent, Stanley had to cover his nose to prevent from throwing up._

_He coughed and gagged as he descended down the stairs to the basement, trying to navigate through the eternal darkness. He stumbled, tripping over something hard on the ground. Stanley lifted his gaze, coming face to face with a pair of cold, dead eyes._

* * *

Stanley awoke drenched in sweat, the lingering dread from his dream consuming him. But the events of his dream were too vague and the image of the body.... he couldn't recall who it was.

He rubbed his face, sitting up in his bed. His eyes glanced over to the clock. 3:17 am. 

"It was just a dream," he mumbled to himself. "Nothing more than a bad dream."

* * *

As Eddie hadn't been able to look at Stanley's car yet, Ben agreed to drive him to inspect the Neibolt house and go through the financial plan.

"So you said this is your first project," Stan said, eyeing the documents on his iPad as Ben drove. "I don't think you told me an ideal budget you have."

"Uh yeah... I didn't," Ben said. "I don't.... well I don't have one... I don't really understand the money side of running a business — thus explaining why I've hired you. We've done small things since I opened up the company, to raise money and build it up but... nothing like this."

"And how much do you have saved?"

"I have a little over half a million," Ben said with a proud yet concerned nod.

"Okay that's promising," Stan said. "Takes about that much to build a house from scratch. Seeing as you want to fix up the house, and not rebuild I'd say it shouldn't take that —"

Stanley glanced up past the iPad, a strange feeling overcoming him as the car pulled into a rocky driveway. The house sat three stories high built with old, rotting wood. Stanley wasn't a home improver, just an accountant, but he could tell it would take more than half a million to fix up this house. But that's not what had Stanley paralyzed. There was something oddly familiar about the black house. Something that sent a wave of dread through every inch of his body.

He smelled it then. The intense, rotting, musty scent... The scent of death.

"I met with a team of home improvers yesterday," Ben said, snapping Stanley out of his thoughts.

"Not good news right?" Stanley asked.

Ben sighed, shaking his head. "Could have done with better.... I'll send you the numbers right now."

As the two got out of the car, Ben tapped away on his phone. "Sent. I know you're just the accountant, but it might help for you to take a look around the house?"

Stanley looked up from his iPad where he was checking the email Ben had just sent. He really didn't want to enter the house, not with the ever growing ball of fear forming in the pit of his stomach — not with Wentworth’s warning the night before and not with the scent coming from the large house. But he wasn't one to disagree with the people who signed his paycheck.

As they entered the creaky building, the scent grew more pungent. He stumbled, eyes landing on the scenery before him. The black chipped walls. The rundown furniture. The cobwebs and spiderwebs. It was brighter than in his dream but it was undoubtedly the house from his dream last night.

His hand shot to his mouth and nose as Ben stopped walking. "You okay?" He asked, eyebrow raised.

"You don't smell that?" Stan asked.

"Smell what?"

Stanley slowly moved his hand down, realizing it was his 'gift' that made him smell it. _Not again_. "N-nothing."

Ben led Stanley to the broken table in what must have been the dining room. "So here are my blueprints," Ben said, laying the paper on the table.

Stanley tensed, a breeze blowing against his neck, harsh whispers filling his ears. He tried to take in a relaxing breath, but coughed on the scent. He had never smelled anything so overpowering.

"We haven't yet cleared everything out and the basement needs a stronger foundation. In fact a lot of the building needs a new foundation which can range from 5,000 to 50,000."

"Mr. Hanscom," came another voice. "We've started inspecting the attic like you've asked. The roof is pretty solid but there's most definitely mold in the floorboards."

Ben groaned. "One moment," he said to Stan before following the woman.

Stan couldn't take it. He made a step for the front door, but before he could make it out, the door slammed, a body materializing before him. He stumbled backwards, falling hard onto the rotten wood.

It was a man. At least, it used to be a man. Now he was nothing more than a faded spirit; jaw unhinged and an image of blood drenching his body.

He hissed something Stanley could hardly hear, yet he understood it all the same.

 _"We just ate_ ," he groveled, his jaw wobbling loosely, mouth just barely moving. Stanley wasn't sure how he was able to understand him. " _But your shine could feed us for months."_

 _"Years I'd say,"_ came another voice from behind. Stanley didn't bother to look at the source of the voice, quickly stumbling to his feet and running in the opposite direction. There had to be another exit.

He ran down the hallway, throwing himself into another room. He was in search for a window - any type of exit. But unfortunately his eyes landed on two teenage boys. Or rather, what use to be two teenage boys. Now they were nothing more than metaphysical representations of what they use to be. Stanley stumbled, a hand covering his mouth as he held back vomit. They were more grotesque than the man with the loose jaw.

Their eyes landed on Stanley. Hungry and desperate eyes.

" _Save us,"_ they cried, out of sync from one another. " _You're shine can save us_!"

Stanley stumbled out of the room as the two figures came for him. He turned as soon as he got out of room, running from the many ghosts that now came for him. He stopped short at a fork in the house. Either stairs leading up or stairs leading down. He turned behind, the ghosts slowly gaining on him.

" _Help him,_ " cried a girls voice. Stanley looked in front of him, taking notice of a young girl with curly black hair. She couldn't have been older than ten. She didn't look like the other spirits. " _Help him and I will help you."_

"Help who?"

She pointed down the stairs. Stan glanced behind his shoulder to the spirits gaining on him. Even if this was a trap, it was his best option. There had to be an exit down there. He saw a window from the outside of the building.

Without having enough time to think it through, he made a run for the stairs. As he got to the last step, he looked up, pleasantly surprised to not see anything following him. He shot his head back to the front, relieved time see a window. But before he made a run for it, he remembered what the little ghost girl had said.

_Help him._

With shaky hands, he pulled out his phone and risked another look behind him. It took him a minute to find the flashlight feature on his phone, but when he did he wished he hadn’t.

His phone clattered to the ground as both hands moved to cover his mouth and nose. The scent of death, it was coming from here. It was coming from the freshly dead body lying on the basement floor. Wentworth Tozier’s body.


	4. The beating drum of death

That damn scent seemed to follow Stanley all his life.

He first smelled it at age five. The scent led him to the forest behind his backyard. He ended up stumbling upon a dead deer. He had cried about it for hours, only calming down when Mallory told him the deers soul still lived on.

"Nothing and no one really dies Stanny," Mallory had said, stroking his curls softly.

"Where do they go Mallie?" asked the snot nosed, wide eyed Stanley.

"Nowhere," she said, wiping a tear away from his chubby cheeks. "They stay right here. With us."

It was a year later that he smelt it again. For days it lingered around his home, suffocated him during breakfast, lunch and dinner. On the fifth day, the scent left the house but led him to the street out front of his house; it led him to his sisters dead body. 

He was nine the next time the scent hit his nostrils. It surrounded one of his roommates for days leading up to his death. The day of his death was the worst. Stanley tried to stop it that time. He had followed David Ortello to the river behind the synagogue. He watched him carefully climb the rocks. But it happened so fast. He couldn’t save him. 

In high school he had been volunteering at a retirement home where the building constantly stunk of death. No one else seemed to smell it, but every time a resident got closer and closer to death, Stanley knew.

In college, there had been a missing student his freshman year. After a few days of being declared missing, the smell hit Stanley. It was a few days before Stanley got the courage to follow the scent. The students' funeral was that weekend and Stanley was a suspect for two months before they caught the real guy. That was the last time Stanley followed the scent. Until now. Not that he really had a choice.

Stanley shut his eyes, tight. The images wouldn't leave his mind. Even after he ran upstairs and out of the house. Even after he threw up in the dead sunflowers. Even after calling the police and having the house searched. Even after they pulled his body out on a gurney. Even after the deputy took Stan to the station for some standard questioning.

He felt like throwing up again.

"Mr. Uris." He snapped his eyes open, taking notice of the younger looking police officer standing in front of him. "I have a few questions for you."

"I already answered the deputies questions," Stan mumbled, rubbing his face. His voice was hoarse and he was reminded of the first time he found a human. He had stopped talking for months after that and when he finally spoke again his voice was hoarse and hard to hear; just like now.

"I know, just a few more," she said with a small smile. "Where were you last night around 3 am?"

Stanley glanced up at her. He was a suspect. The first to the scene always is. And he’s been through this too many times not to understand that. But he couldn’t get over the time.

"Did you say 3 am?"

She nodded. "Yes. Time of death has been determined to be around 3 in the morning. Can you account for where you where around that time?"

"I-in bed," he answered. "I Uh.... I woke up at 3:17. From... from a.... for water. Got water and went back to bed."

"Pretty convenient that you woke up at the exact time of death," the cop said. 

"I... I'm sorry... what?"

"Officer Alex," Bill said, approaching the two. "Don't you think Sta— Mr. Uris has had enough questions for one day."

"But sheriff —"

"Just give him a minute Officer," Bill said, “he’s been through a traumatic experience.”

Officer Alex sighed, closing her pad of paper and walking off, Bill turned to face Stanley. "You okay? I've been filled in on everything I'm — shit I'm so sorry."

He ran his hand down his face, closing his red eyes. He'd been crying.

"Are you okay?" Stanley managed to ask. "You were close weren't you?"

Bill bit his lip, taking his hat off and sitting next to Stanley. He wanted to focus on their thighs just barely touching, but it didn't seem right. Bill nodded.

"Richie is going to be crushed," Bill croaked out. He rubbed his eyes. Stanley felt like throwing up again.

Did he smell it on Went last night? The death? Had he gotten so use to ignoring it he didn't notice it until it was too late? Could he have saved Went? Stan closed his eyes, looking away from Bill. He was struck with the heartbreaking reality that he was once again all alone. Went was his beacon. And now Went was gone.

Bill wrapped his fingers around the hand Stan had rested on his knee. Stan opened his eyes, glancing into Bill’s. They were so blue. The dazzling kind of blue that made you feel lost at sea when you looked into them. But the blush on his cheeks wasn’t brought on by Bill’s eyes, but by the way he thought Stan’s eyes looked beautiful after he cried.

Stanley looked away from Bill. Now was not the time. Bill thought so as well, as he took his hand off of Stan’s and cleared his throat.

The door to the police station opened then, bringing in Richie and Eddie.

“— all I’m saying, is IHOP is a great place for a lunch date,” Richie said as he entered the building. Bill stood to his feet.

“And all I’m saying is when I said take me on a lunch date for my break, I did not have IHOP in mind.”

Richie smiled at Bill as the two approached. “What’s up Sheriff Big Bill? Need your trusty detective to help solve some mystery?”

Eddie rolled his eyes but Bill just bit his lip, looking down at the ground. “You’re no detective Rich. What’s up Bill? Why’d we have to come to the station?”

Bill cleared his throat as Stan watched; his stomach twisting and twisting with every pressing moment.

“Rich....” he managed to get out. “I... w-w-well... th....th-this morning.... w-wuh-wuh.... we found your dad.....”

Richie’s face fell immediately, but he forced a small smirk. “My dad? He-he wasn’t missing so... shouldn’t have been that hard.”

Eddie put his hand on Richie’s arm, but the taller boy flinched out of his grasp. “No. Where’s my dad Bill.”

“Richie...”

“Where. Is. My. Dad.”

“He... y-y-your d-d-dad is d-d-“

“You’re dad is dead Richie,” Stanley said, coming to stand beside Bill. “I... I’m so sorry... I found him.... this morning.... in the house on Neibolt street.”

“Th-The house..... n-no.” Richie shook his head. “My dad... he was terrified of that house he would never...”

“ _Tell him I had no choice.”_

Stanley was startled by the fourth voice coming from his left side. He jumped, stumbling away from the source of the voice and into Bill, who held his arm tightly.

“You okay?” Bill asked quietly.

But Stanley couldn’t answer. Because he wasn’t sure if he was okay. Because Wentworth Tozier was standing next to him. And only Stanley could see him.


	5. No Luke Skywalker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am overwhelmed by the kind comments y’all have been leaving on this story!! It fills my heart with so much freaking joy you don’t even know. Just wanna day sorry the last chapter was so short - ew. But this one I feel makes up for it. There’s also a shit ton of Star Wars references Bc I am but a simple nerd :)

It took Stan a minute to regather himself. He told Bill he was just feeling light headed and tried his hardest to ignore the spirit lingering beside him.

"What are you even doing here Stanley?" Eddie asked. "You just met..."

"He found him..." Bill said.

"W-what was he doing in the Neibolt house?" Richie asked. His voice was distant and weak.

_"I was trying to get rid of It."_

Stanley glanced to his side, just barely catching himself from replying to Went. "I-I... I don't know..."

 _"C'mon Stanley_."

He looked away from Went, and back to Richie and Eddie. "I just went in with Ben to talk over finances and..."

Stanley closed his eyes again. Those spirits. They were so angry and.... hungry. They did this to Wentworth. Those ghosts murdered Wentworth. And they were going to do the same thing to Stanley.

"Excuse me," Stanley muttered, quickly walking past the three.

He made his way outside, taking in a deep breath. "Fuck...."

 _"I know what you're thinking_ ," Went's voice came from behind Stan. " _But you can't leave."_

"Why the hell not?" Stan asked. "I-I am not the guy to do this.... I don't even know what this is!"

_"I know. And I didn't want to get you involved, but I wasn't strong enough to stop It."_

"And what makes you think I am?" Stanley asked, raising his voice slightly. He glanced around, assuring no one was listening or around. When it was deemed safe, Stan lowered his voice. "I'm nothing Went."

" _You are everything, Stanley,_ " Went said, putting a hand on his shoulder and sending a chill through Stan's body. " _You have more power than anyone I've ever met."_

Stanley shook his head. "I can't... I-I... I can't fucking do it."

* * *

The good thing about small towns, was how close everything was. Stanley walked from the police station back to the bar in under ten minutes.

Stanley didn't know the rules of spirits or the spirit world but he assumed there had to be a power source around (in his case, himself) for them to materialize. He wasn't sure what kept Wentworth from following him all the way back to the bar. Maybe it was like in Supernatural, where ghosts have a specific place, person or thing that allows them to show up. Maybe that person for Went was Richie. And maybe Stanley would never know, but he was thankful nonetheless.

He was never a brave kid. And if anything, the Boarding School for the Weird and Possessed only made Stanley more afraid.

Afraid to be himself. Afraid to step out of line. Afraid to use his 'gifts' and mostly, afraid of the unknown. And the House of Horror on Neibolt street was the most unknown Stanley had ever encountered.

He was no Luke Skywalker and he most definitely wasn't the one to save the day.

" _I remember when you first watched Star Wars."_

Stanley stopped packing his things, paralyzed. He wouldn't say he was afraid. Not of this voice. Just, surprised.

Slowly, he turned to the sound of the voice and just as he suspected, Mallory stood in the doorway. She was as young as he remembered, just shy of 13, and yet he still saw her as his big sister.

" _You were about five_ ," she continued with a smile. " _You thought that you were a Jedi and that you had the force. Understandable, since you were able to move things with your mind by then. Easy mistake, really."_

"Mallory... what... how..."

Mallory shrugged. " _I don't know. I haven't been able to reach you. I've been trying — for twenty years, I've been trying. It's like.... you shut me out from being able to reach you.... I don't know what's changed this time. But I'm really glad you decided to let me back in."_

Stanley shook his head. "No... no you’re not real....” He pressed the palm of his hands against his burning eyes. “You’re dead.”   
  


_“I am_ ,” Mallory said. _“To both of those statements. Stanley I’m your sister just let me —“_

“My sister is dead!” Stanley cried. “The dead don’t come back!” 

There was a cold touch on his arm. 

“ _I know it’s hard for you to see me Stanny_ ,” her voice whispered. “ _But you can’t leave. So many children will die if you do.”_

"But if I stay, _I_ will die."

" _Would I ever put you in a position I thought would kill you?”_ She asked. The cold touch moved to his cheek, but his eyes were still closed, hot tears spilling through his hands _. “You’re my baby brother, Stanny.”_

Stanley sighed. "I don't know what I'm doing Mallie.” 

He removed his hands from his eyes, but Mallory was gone, replaced by Richie and his bloodshot eyes.

“Seeing ghosts huh,” Richie said. His eyes scanned to the packed bag. “See something in Neibolt that spooked ya?” 

“You sound like you already know the answer to that...”

Richie nodded, stuffing his hands in his pockets and walking into his room. “You’re like my dad... can see ghosts and shit.”

“You knew?”

“I’m not a total dumb ass.” He shook his head. “He would never go into that house— I don’t— I just.... why would he do...?”

Stanley sighed, running a hand through his hair. He was never one for getting attached to people or getting invested in their personal lives. But even though Stanley only just met Richie, the pleading look in his eyes made him ache inside. There was something that connected them — something that made Stanley want to help.

“He.... he told me he was trying to get rid of It,” Stanley said.

“ _It_? What the dick is _It_?”

Stanley shrugged looking around his room.

“Is he... is he here?” Richie asked, his voice cracking like a child who just fell off their bike.

Stan licked his lips, looking around before shaking his head. “Not right now.” 

Richie nodded, chewing on his bottom lip. 

“There are evil things on that house...” Stan said after a minute of silence. “Evil like I’ve never felt before... Went... he... he said I could stop it. I don’t think I’m brave, or strong enough.... I-I mean I don’t even know the full extent of my powers!”

Richie hummed in consideration, continuing to gnaw his bottom lip. “I think I know someone who can help you,” he finally said. “A Yoda, if you will.”

Stanley tried to keep a straight face, but the Star Wars analogies were more than he could handle.

“What’s that make you?” Stanley asked through chuckles.

Richie smirked, straightening his back. “Han Solo. Isn’t is obvious?”

Stanley laughed. “The only thing you and Han Solo have in common, is your horrible sense of humors.”

“I take that as a compliment,” Richie said, clasping his hand on Stan’s shoulder. “Now lets train, Stan the Man with Magic Hands. The empire needs-a saving.”


	6. Deep into the mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!!! I’m back! Also, Idek if y’all get notifications for edits but, I made a few tweaks to this story. There’s only one major plot change and that is that stanley had an older sister who died when he was younger. If you want to read those changes it’s the first few paragraphs of chapter one and the middle of chapter 5 when Stan was originally talking to Colleen ☺️ I hope that doesn’t make it too confusing for y’all it just made stans character and plot line a little stronger in my mind so, I hope you enjoy!!!

There was something in the air in Derry. Something that wasn't there this morning.

He could see them. He could see them everywhere — the spirits. They weren't strong enough to attack, or to even sense Stanley's presence. Most didn't even form a real shape. They were like blobs of spirits that Stan worked hard to avoid. Who knew what would come of him if he touched one. How did he determine which were good and which were bad? Were any of them good?

"What are you doing?" Richie asked. "You look like a tweaker."

Stanley glared at Richie as he dodged another spirit blob. "Something awakened in Derry after I went into Neibolt. There are spirits everywhere."

"Walk through them," Richie said.

"Couldn't we have driven?" Stan asked, moving quickly to the right to avoid another spirit.

"Mike's house is in walking distance," Richie said, pushing Stan away as he ran into him. "Just walk through them!"

"They'll suck my soul and drag me to hell!" Stan's face went blank as they passed a couple on the street. The two woman eyed Richie and Stan wearily, holding each other's arms as they passed. Richie smiled awkwardly, waving slightly.

"He's practicing does a play," Richie said, dragging Stan along. "C'mon, it's just down the road here."

* * *

"Knock, knock Mike Wazowski," Richie said, stepping into the opened office where a man sat hunched over a pile of books. He stood up and gave a brilliant smile before pulling Richie in for a hug.

"Hey Rich," he said, tightening the hug. "I'm sorry about your dad."

Richie shrugged as he pulled back from the hug, his hands moving to the pockets of his jeans. "Nothing I can do about it now. Except fucking destroy that house. Which is why we're here."

Mike nodded. "I know." He looked at Stanley, smiling calmly. "You must be Stanley."

He nodded, hands staying in the pockets of his jeans.

"Well I'll leave you guys to do your... witchy thing," Richie said. "I'll go entertain your wife."

"I'll apologize to Alison later," Mike said, smirking at the dark haired man.

"Hey! Alison loves me!" Richie declared.

"Mmhm, whatever you said," Mike said teasingly.

Richie stuck his tongue out before leaving, shutting the door behind him.

"Does your wife know?" Stan asked. "About..."

"About my shine? Yeah. She knows." Mike moved back over to the desk, putting the book he was reading back on the shelf. "You're planning on fighting the beings inside that house?"

Stan shrugged. "I guess that's what I have to do."

"Well you're new to all of this and don't know what you're truly capable of so I say we start at the basics."

"Which are?"

Mike smiled. "Meditating."

Stan groaned. "Of course it is."

* * *

"Now you need to focus," Mike instructed.

"You told me to clear my head and now I need to focus?" Stanley opened his eyes. "Which is it?"

"It's both, Stanley," Mike stated.

"What exactly am I focusing on?" Stan asked.

"On your surroundings," Mike said. "The noises outside and the colors of the leaves on the trees. Extend your thoughts farther than you could ever imagine. Now try it again."

"How do I know —"

"You'll know. Close your eyes."

Stan sighed, closing his eyes and placing his hands on his crossed knees. He took a deep breath, clearing his mind like Mike instructed. After settling for a few minutes, he heard it; the whistle of the wind between the green leaves, the clattering of the wind-chimes two doors downs and the barking of the dogs clustered in the dog park two blocks away.

His senses continued further along and as they moved, he could see everything pass by until his vision stopped at the gates of the house on Neibolt street. Stanley tensed, fear prickling the back of his neck.

Neibolt house seemed to have its own frequency, a constant buzzing of a channel Stanley couldn't seem to reach. At least, he didn't want to reach it. But the whispers drew him closer. And then he was inside, the smell of death and mold overpowering. He didn't seem to see any of the spirits, in fact, the house was silent. Not a comfortable or awkward kind of silence but the tense kind that told you something bad was coming. He was shaking now, but continued to move along inside the house.

Every time he entered a room, images would flash through his mind. They were almost like memories. Horrifying and gruesome memories of the houses victims.

He made his way down to the basement with trepidation. The images of Went's death flooded his senses.

Went had been heading to the well located in the center of the basement when he had been attacked. But it wasn't a ghost. The ghosts' looked different in these memories than humans.

"It won't let you go down there," the person said, their voice muffled and distorted in the memory.

"Y'know I have to put an end to all this," Went said. He spoke as if he knew this person intimately.

"And you know that It won't let me allow you to do that," the voice said.

Went said the persons name, the noise coming out muffled and incoherent. But the person didn't let Went say more before lunging forward with a knife, stabbing him in the chest.

Stanley stumbled back in the memory, shielding his eyes. He felt himself hit something hard and when he opened his eyes, the two people were gone. Stan looked back, his hand gripping the well. He looked over and down in it, unable to see where it ended or how far down it actually went.

This wasn't real, he told himself. His body was back at Mike's house — safe and sound.

With that in mind, he allowed himself to enter the well. He fell, and fell for way too long. He was afraid he would end up stuck in an endless loop of falling and falling in a dark empty pit when he landed with a hard thud. But he wasn't in a dark room or the end of a water well. He was outside on the street of a suburban neighborhood. He could tell by the sticky, humid weather that he was in Georgia.

While looking around with confusion, his eyes landed on a light haired twelve year old girl. He froze.

"Mallory..."

"Stanley get out of the street," she called, walking towards Stanley.

He opened his mouth to speak, but he was beat to it by a smaller boys voice.

" _Look Mallie_!" his younger self called, walking through older Stanley as if he were a ghost. " _I saw these and thought of you."_

" _Stanley! Run_!" she screamed out, picking her feet up to a run herself.

Adult Stan watched his younger self freeze in the middle of the road, eyes glued on the car speeding through the neighborhood.

"No," he muttered. "Mallory don't!"

He picked up own feet in a vain attempt to rewrite history. But Mallory ran right through him, pushing his younger self out of the road right before the car could hit him. Adult Stan covered his eyes right before the crash, his body shaking feverishly.

" _Stanny_..." the voice was a soft whisper in the wind but he recognized it all the same. That wasn't part of the memory. She never spoke after that...

He removed his hands from his eyes, stumbling back and tripping over the curb as he took in his sister. She didn't look how she usually did when he saw her. She looked the way he saw her after the car sped away. She looked dead.

"Mallie..." he cried. She slowly stepped closer to him as he scooted back against the sidewalk.

" _What? No hug for your big sister_?" she asked, tilting her head ever-so slightly.

"Y-y-you're.... you're not real," he got out.

" _You keep saying that,_ " she said. " _But I_ am _real."_

Stan shook his head, closing his eyes and looking away.

" _You know what else is real, Stanny,_ " she growled, roughly grabbing his cheeks and forcing him to look at her. " _You.... killing me."_

Stan shook his head, eyes burning with tears. "I... I'm sorry Mals..."

" _Sorry. Doesn't. Bring me. Back. Stanny_ ," she said, squeezing his cheeks. Her dirt infested nails dug into his skin.

" _I'm dead, because of you!_ " She screamed.

"No... no I... I didn't —"

" _Now I'm going to bring you with me,"_ she said.

Stanley heard a faint voice in the distance. As if it were calling to him. After further concentration, he realized it was calling out to him.

"This isn't real," he muttered. "This really, isn't real."

His sister stumbled back a bit, allowing Stan room to kick his leg out, pushing her off of him. He stood to his feet, running as fast as he could towards the voice calling out to him.

* * *

Gasping for air, Stanley's eyes opened. Richie was kneeling in front of him, Mike beside him with a hand on his arm.

"Thank God," Richie breathed out, sitting back on his butt.

"You brought me back," Stan said to Mike. "How'd you know?"

Mike chewed on his bottom lip. "I'm sorry. It got to you. I didn't think.... no one has gone so far on their first try... I'm sorry..."

Stanley put his hand on Mike's shoulder. "It's okay," he breathed out. "I think I know where we can destroy It."


End file.
